Hymns to Us
by loudatlas
Summary: "Shenanigans" is Sugawara Koushi's favorite word. (Or: the one where volleyball boys cause a lot of problems for each other.)
1. TsukishimaYamaguchi

It's not that he was good at lying or anything. It's just that no one really suspected him in the first place.

Honestly, who would even dream of putting Yamaguchi Tadashi and a mysterious sensational youtube musician in the same context?

No one, that's who. And Yamaguchi really prefered it that way. He was anonymous for a reason, ya know.

What would everyone even think if they found out about his clandestine singing hobby? His parents already thought it was weird enough that he played volleyball. Volleyball was for _girls_, they would say. Singing was for _girls_. God, what would Tsukishim-he refused to even consider that. No way. No way, _no way_, no-

Something hit the back of his head.

"Oi, you going to sit there all day or what?" Tsukishima blinked down at him. He wasn't exactly scowling-he usually reserved that for anyone who was not Yamaguchi and dared to speak to him directly-but his eyes were narrowed.

"N-no! Sorry, Tsukki, I'm coming." Yamaguchi winced-he'd spaced out for the entire class. He'd have to borrow notes. Again.

Tsukishima spoke as Yamaguchi shoved books into his bag. "You've been weird lately."

Yamaguchi cringed. "I don't know what you mean."

"Seems like you're busier than usual."

Ah, that's because he was. He'd put up four new videos this week alone-three covers of some newer music and an original he'd wrote himself. It wasn't much work making the videos-it was just the music, anyway, and he usually just put album art in a slideshow for people to look at. He didn't even talk-too risky. His singing voice and his talking voice didn't exactly sound alike. There was no stumbling over words when he sang. No stuttering or nervousness, no-

"-uchi. Yamaguchi."

He blinked and his eyes focused in on the black frames that were _thisclose_ to his face.

"L-let's go, then!" Yamaguchi threw up a shaky smile and made for the door of the classroom. He hesitated at the doorway, waiting for the sound of Tsukishima's footsteps before continuing on.

-O-

They eat lunch on the roof.

Yamaguchi doesn't remember who decided this-he recalls making a comment about how he'd love to eat there just for the irony of it, but doesn't quite know when it had become a permanent thing.

It's then, with the sun shining and chilly fall air pulling at their jackets, that it happens.

"Hey, listen to this song. It reminds me of you."

Yamaguchi doesn't have time to agree. Doesn't have time to be shocked with the fact that Tsukki was thinking about him. Doesn't even have time to turn and actually look at his friend before Tsukki's headphones are around his head and over his ears and-he was wearing Tsukki's headphones. Dear lord in heaven, he was wearing the headphones Tsukishima Kei would die to protect he was-

He was listening to his own voice through the speakers.

If Yamaguchi had been drinking something, he would have either spit it out or choked it.

He was listening to the song he'd written through Tsuki's headphones. Which meant Tsukki had listened to it. Which meant _Tsukishima was listening to his music. _

_Stay cool, Tadashi, stay cool._ He tapped his fingers on his leg like he would any other song. _Maybe he doesn't realize-Tsuki's not that kind of person, he'd just confront you outright about it if he knew._ Don't freak out_. _

The sound of his own voice was not soothing in the slightest. It was his favorite original song as of yet (Tsukishima was right; he'd written it about himself, after all) but given the circumstances...

"It's a cool song," Yamaguchi stated. He tried to keep his back molars from grinding together. "W-who's it by?"

Tsukishima took his headphones back before picking at his lunch. "It's some up-and-coming youtube guy. No one actually knows who he is, I don't think, but he's pretty good. His voice-"

_Don't flinch, Tadashi, don't you dare flinch._

"-is strangely comforting."

_Don't sigh in relief, either. _

Yamaguchi made a vague noise of agreement and started eating his lunch. The rice tasted like cardboard.

-O-

Later at practice, Daichi sent Tsukishima home early.

Even Kageyama looked vaguely worried with how distracted the blond was. He'd taken two volleyballs to the face and Yamaguchi had lost count of the recieves he'd missed-he was pretty sure he saw Suga talking to him before their senior sent Tsukishima out of the gym.

Which meant at the end of practice, Yamaguchi and Hinata were the last ones returning balls to the carts, Kageyama watching from the sides after putting the nets away.

"You could always help, you know."

Ah, and now Yamaguchi would get to deal with this.

"If you weren't so slow, you'd be done and I wouldn't have to help, dumbass Hinata!"

"Well, you don't have to wait for me, jerk!"

"W-well fine! I'll-"

Yamaguchi cleared his throat. "You can go, Hinata, I'll get the rest." _You can go argue with your boyfriend where I don't have to listen._

Hinata eyed him critically, like Yamaguchi was setting him up for some remark. Since Tsukishima wasn't here to do something like that.

"...Thanks, Yamaguchi."

"S'no problem."

Yamaguchi breathed a sigh of relief when the duo were gone. Wheeling the carts into the storage room was quick work, and he was back in the locker rooms in record time. He wanted to be out of the school and back home in bed as quickly as possible.

_Should probably text Tsuki, too_..._shower first, though._

Yamaguchi usually took quick showers, but he did have the locker room to himself. So five minutes could turn into ten minutes, and he could sing to his hearts content (really, the acoustics in the showers were great).

And so it was his newest song that echoed back to him from the tile. The one he'd listened to earlier, with Tsukki, except this time it didn't make him want to step off the roof. Maybe because he was singing it himself and not hearing it through headphones.

It was only after, walking back to his locker with a towel around his waist, that it even occurred to Yamaguchi that the doors to the locker room-to the gym-were unlocked. Anyone could walk in at any time.

Tsukishima could walk in, at any time, for whatever reason (to grab the shoes he'd left behind in his locker) and hear him singing.

Yamaguchi saw his friend sitting on the bench, elbows on knees and chin in his hands and he stopped breathing.

"Yamaguchi."

"T-tsukki! W-what-h-how long have y-you been here?"

"Three minutes and forty six seconds."

Yamaguchi's song was exactly three minutes and forty two.

Oh, fuck.

"S-so you heard...that...um...?"

Tsukishima stood and Yamaguchi wondered if his friend had always been so tall. He seemed to tower over him now, and Yamaguchi clutched at his towel.

"Yamaguchi Tadashi. Why on earth...Why would you not tell me that you could sing like that? I made you listen to your own song."

He looked anywhere but Tsukishima. "I...well...Okay, I don't really have an excuse here..."

"...Pathetic."

Yamaguchi winced.

"It's pathetic."

_Don't cry, Tadashi, don't cry in front of Tsuki. Don'tcrydon'tcrydon't_

"It's pathetic that I didn't recognize your voice."

The sound of dripping water reached Yamaguchi's ears from far away.

And then he laughed.

"O-oi! Yamaguchi-what's so funny?"

He wrapped one hand around his stomach and doubled over. "Y-you...Tsuki, y-you...I... w-w-worried.."

"Worried? But your...voice...is..." Tsukishima looked off to the side, mumbling. Yamaguchi just barely caught the whisper at the end of his sentence. His laughter trailed off, and the dripping faucets behind him filled the silence.

_Drip._

Drip_._

_Drip._

"...What did you say?"

Tsukishima turned to face him again, frowning. "You heard me. I'm not repeating it."

"Say it again...please..."

Yamaguchi's jaw almost went slack when Tsukki's face turned pink. "I said your voice is beautiful. There, happy?"

He considered making the blonde say it again but thought it might be pressing his luck. "Very happy, Tsukki."

"Let's just go already, Tadashi."

_Drip._

_Tadashi. _

Drip. _Drip_.

(They should probably get that faucet checked.)

Yamaguchi beamed. "Right! Sorry, Tsukki."

Tsukishima grunted and walked towards the door. Yamaguchi noted with mild satisfaction that even the back of Tsukki's neck was red.


	2. BokutoAkaashi

"_Keiji accepted his sad life as an emetophobic chicken."_

"Heeeey, hey, hey, Akaa~shi!"

Bokuto doesn't think he's ever seen his setter's lips press that tightly against each other, ever. It was a miracle he even managed to get a "Yes, Bokuto?" out.

"Look at this one! It's throwing up a pellet!"

_Don't look, don't look, don't look. For the love of god, Keiji, if you look at that thing throwing up _you _will throw up. _

Despite his best (see: subpar) efforts, he can feel Bokuto's fingers at his temples, turning his head towards the glass window of the owl exhibit. He keeps his eyes open because he is not a baby and, really, he needs to get over this thing with throwing up, besides, this can't even be a real phobia, and the owl isn't _really _throwing up or anything it's not like it's vomit or….or...

Akaashi hunches over and deposits the contents of his stomach onto the ground.

(If most of it hits Bokuto's shoes, well, he doesn't feel very bad about it.)

-O-

"_What's it called when it's Anthropomorphism but the other way around?"_

"_Hoooo."_

"Hooooooot!"

"_Hooo whoooo."_

"WHOO-!"

"Bokuto, for the love of god."

"But they're _speaking to me, Akaashi!"_

He watched Akaashi run a hand over his face. The lampposts gave just enough light in the park to watch the setter's eyes roll skyward.

"Okay. Okay, Bokuto, they're talking to you-maybe they don't want you to reply just now."

"They're talking to _us, _actually."

Bokuto was very certain that Akaashi gave him a fond look. Very, very certain. Like, 100% _Akaashi-Keiji-is-fond-of-you_ look that sometimes looked like the _I-Love-You-to-Death- Bokuto-Koutaro_ looks.

Bokuto Koutaro was happy with either one.

-O-

"_Dead Man Kuroo Tetsurou walks among us. But not for long." _

"Akaashi Keiji."

"What are you doing?"

"I've want to ask you this for a long time…"

"Please stand up, Bokuto."

"I know we've only known each other for a few years, but I feel...that our love is strong enough to…"

"We are in the _middle of practice, please stand up."_

"...strong enough to hold, even if I ask you this-"

"Bokuto Koutaro."

"Keiji. Will you…please...well, see, there's this place in America and it's supposedly a bar, right, and I know you're only 20 so you can't really go yet but when you turn twenty one we can definitely go there together because I thought it'd be great, since we were owls and I'm not sure where it's at but I guess it's popular and Kuroo told me about it so it must be good, right, and I haven't gotten chance to look it up online or anything but I really want to go so please take me."

Akaashi sighed through his nose, very lightly, and looked down to where his boyfriend was grasping his hands in his. Down on one knee. In the middle of practice. Thank god they were towards the edge of the gym and no one was paying attention to Bokuto's usual antics.

"What's the place called?"

"Kuroo said it's called 'Hooters.' Ya know, like owls."

(Akaashi looks the bar up later. It is not, in fact, "like owls" and Kuroo was going to be receiving very strong words from him for the disappointed look Bokuto wore for the rest of the day.)


	3. YakuLev

Yaku was not a pessimist.

He wasn't exactly an _optimist. _But he definitely wasn't a pessimist. He managed to surpass the height complex he'd had at fifteen, so, no, definitely not 100% Mr. Downer.

Yaku just didn't understand why everyone else thought he _was. _

-O-

Maybe it started with the nickname.

Lev's nickname. That he sort-of-kind-of brought about not _on purpose_ but not completely innocently, either.

Yaku's not sure how everyone took the nickname to mean that he had a negative attitude towards his height. The only ones who knew it had ever bothered him in the first place were Kuro and those unlucky first years that had tried to see if he'd let it slide when they poked fun at his shorter-than-them stature.

(Yes, he was allowed to ride the big rollercoasters at amusement parks, for _christ's sake._)

Despite that, Yaku found that everything happening _now_ still seemed to start with that god damn nickname.

-O-

"Lev, I think that's the best recieve I've ever seen you do."

"Really?!"

"No. Bend your legs and lean more forward."

"Wahh...Yaku, don't say mean things like that."

Yaku crossed his arms and spared a glance to the gym clock. Practice would be over in ten minutes and this giraffe needed to get it right at _least _once.

"Let's do a few mo-" Lev's attention had wandered to the spiking practice going on a feet away. Yaku sighed and snapped his fingers in front of the first year's face (thank god his knees were still bent, or Yaku would have had to stretch to reach).

"Oi! Legs for Miles, practice is right here."

And, okay, Yaku could see that _maybe _he'd said it pretty loud, but the sudden lull in balls hitting the hardwood floor was _probably _why it echoed. And why the Nekoma team stopped and directed their attention to the duo.

(Really, the entire team knew that watching the goings-on between Yaku and Lev was golden.)

In front of him, Lev guffawed and straightened up. "Legs for mil-"

"If you make the next one good we'll end practice."

-O-

The second time he said it, he didn't even need to see his face to know it was Lev.

Yaku was late-not detention-for-the-rest-of-the-month late, but very-sorry-sensei-won't-ever-happen-again late. So him making a mad dash for his classroom was understandable.

What was not understandable (at the time, anyway) was charging through the front doors of the school and colliding with a _fucking wall. _

Yaku's eyes started from the ground-shoes, pants...pants...more pants. Legs that went on forever before he was looking up at a gaping Lev.

"Watch it, Legs for Miles."

And then he was off.

-O-

The third time it was very much on purpose.

The first year just talked and talked and _talked _sometimes and any other day Yaku would suffer (listen) and any other day he'd sit there looking annoyed (endeared). But today was not like those days.

"And then after that, I was fighting this one guy, right? It wasn't a boss but it was-"

Yaku could hear whispers from a nearby group of girls.

("_That's a first year? The tall one? And the _shorter one's _the third year? Pfft! Lame.")_

"Lev," Yaku interrupted. "I think Kenma would understand this more than I do."

("_Yeah, can you believe he's in the volleyball club? He must be the towel boy. Helps out the manager.)_

"But, Yaku, listen, it was so cool and-!"

("_And the taller one's bent, like, at the waist so their faces are on the same level. How are they even friends?"_)

"Lev. _Shut up._"

"I..."

Yaku could see the hurt in his eyes-could hear the whispers stop, and what replaced it was the rushing in his ears from that look.

"Oi, Legs for Miles." Yaku says it fondly, delicately, to let the first year who looks like he's on the verge of tears know that he won't apologize but _please, stop making that sad face at me. _"Let's go eat lunch somewhere."

-O-

And maybe Yaku wasn't completely over his height complex.

(Fuck, did that mean he _was _a pessimist?)

-O-

After that, it becomes habit, and-as much as Yaku doesn't want to admit it-it's become their _thing. _

The day that Yaku acknowledges it as their thing (albeit not verbally) was the day that Nekoma won their way to nationals the second year in a row. Lev was a third year, Yaku in his second year of college and still a solid libero for a high end team. He was only there in the first place because the tournament was close to his campus.

(It was _not _because he missed the idiot giraffe.)

They're walking up the steps to the convention center (back from getting snacks from a convenience store a few blocks away) when Yaku sees Lev stop out of the corner of his eye. When he turns to ask why, Yaku notices two things.

Lev is looking at him very strangely.

Yaku is looking directly into the second year's face.

He may notice that Lev's eyes are much greener from this angle than from the one he usually has. But he tries to ignore that.

"What are you doing?"

Lev visibly tenses. "Uh. So, see, I was gonna, uh, well. I was gonna kiss you. Just now. Thought about it. Since we're the same height. On stairs. And I wouldn't have to, uh, bend down so much...but I think I'm backing out of it now."

Yaku stares. Opens his mouth. Stares. Closes his mouth. Breathes calmly through his nose.

"Well," he starts, watching Lev fidget with the plastic bag in his hands. "If you didn't have legs for fucking miles, we wouldn't have this problem."

And, see, he was not a pessimist, he leaned down-_down, _he, Yaku Morisuke, leaned _down_-and kissed the third year.


	4. KageyamaHinata

They never really _said it. _

Not in as many words, anyway. Not in those _exact _words. But they did say it. They saw it. Felt it. Showed it.

(As best they could, anyway.)

"You shouldn't drink that."

"Shut up, it smells fine!"

"Kageyama…"

Hinata watched his friend drink the contents of the milk carton (previously shoved to the back of his fridge and four days past its expiration date). Kageyama side-eyed him and wiped his mouth.

"You're going to die, Kageyama."

"I am not, you dumbass. It was only a few days."

"I'll see you on the other side, Kageyama."

"H-Hinata, stop that giving me that pitying look!"

"What flowers would you like on your gr-"

Hinata watched as the taller of the two slammed the empty carton on the kitchen counter and marched towards the living room.

Chuckling, he plucked the carton back up and aimed it towards the trashcan, eyes catching on the expiration date one last time before-

Wait.

Did that say the _fourth? _Today was the _twenty first. _

_How on this mother loving earth had it smelled fine? _

Kageyama's voice drifted to him from the hallway. "Uh...Hinata...my stomach feels kind of...weird…"

"Kageyama. I'm going to need you to write me into your will so I get all your volleyballs."

-O-

"Hinata."

"What?"

"You need to eat."

They sat next to each other at the small table in Kageyama's room. The plates of food in front of them steamed.

"One point. We were one point away."

"I know."

Hinata's chin lowered until it was almost to his chest. The set of his shoulders made Kageyama want to grab them and shake until some kind of tension came back.

"You need to eat, Hinata."

"Not hungry."

"I don't care."

The smaller pushed a small _hhmph _from his lips before glancing at his setter. "You aren't eating."

"I will when you do."

The same small sound again. "You almost sound concerned, Kageyama."

"O-oi! Shut up and eat, idiot. How do you expect to win the next game with that attitude?"

His shoulders pulled back. Chin lifted and amber eyes met blue, but his voice was still quiet. "You eat first. What if it's poisoned?"

Kageyama ignored the implication that his mother would poison them and takes the largest bite of food he possibly can, glaring at the decoy beside him and chewing as aggressively as possible.

Almost dazedly, Kageyama watches Hinata crack a smile. It tugged just at the corner of his lips and the corners of his eyes, but it was there. His aggressive chewing slowed and stopped as Hinata let out another sigh and picked up his chopsticks.

He starts eating, that small, hopeful smile picking up speed and becoming a real, earth-shattering grin. And Kageyama has a wild thought.

_I want to kiss him. _

(He _doesn't _kiss him_, _of course, because they've both got _food _in their mouths and that'd be _gross._)


	5. IwaizumiOikawa

They're both sixteen when Oikawa makes the white kneepad a permanent thing.

Iwaizumi never asks-he assumes it's Oikawa being dumb Oikawa, thinking he looks cool with mismatched kneepads.

Now, when they're in their last year and Iwaizumi is sitting in a sports medicine class, he realizes two things:

1. That white kneepad might not just be a white kneepad.

2. He might be the real idiot here, if what he was putting together was true.

-O-

It takes Iwaizumi a week to observe.

It takes him a few seconds of intuition to realize that, if he's right, this might be why Oikawa is so determined to beat Shiratorizawa before they graduate.

Because there may not be any more games _at all _for the setter after they graduate.

And so Iwaizumi watches.

Watches Oikawa when he practices his jump serves, watches when he's jumping to block, watches the impact of his feet on the ground and how the knee with the white kneepad buckles just the slightest bit.

It's not just a kneepad that Oikawa wears-it's a _brace. _

Iwaizumi feels like hitting his head off the net pole when he realizes that it's been _years _and he just thought his friend was trying to make a _fashion statement. _

And the words of his sports medicine teacher bounce around in his head all that week, making his skin _crawl._

(Quadricep tendonitis.)

-O-

On Friday, after their evening practice has run late into the night and Oikawa is the last one there (again) hitting serve after serve, Iwaizumi watches from the door of the locker room.

The ball goes up, Oikawa follows, hits, lands-

White-covered knee buckles and this time he falls, hits the hardwood with a hard slap of his palms.

Iwaizumi's moving before he realizes, gripping his idiot friend's shoulder and crouching beside him.

"Oikawa…"

"I-Iwa-chan! I didn't realize you were still here! You should have told me and I would've-"

He doesn't sound like himself-his voice is strained, the usual chipper voice forced through grinded back molars. Iwaizumi holds onto his shoulder as he pushes to his feet. He notices that Oikawa keeps the weight off of his white knee-padded leg. The step he takes towards the locker room has him buckling again, hands grabbing frantically for Iwaizumi and latching on.

He doesn't need to observe anymore.

"Oikawa, why the hell didn't you tell me about your knee."

It's not a question, and Oikawa knows it from the sharp tone of his voice. "Ah, well…"

Iwaizumi waits. He'll wait as long as it takes.

(Okay, he'll wait, like, two minutes before the urge to hit Oikawa in the nose overwhelms him.)

"It's not anything serious, so I didn't...want to make a big deal out of it."

_Didn't want to make you worry. _Iwaizumi almost scoffs. Oikawa not wanting to make a big deal out of something? Not complaining to anyone else, he can understand. But to _him?_

Iwaizumi wraps an arm around Oikawa's waist and all but drags him to the locker room. The setter only protests in a few mumbled "I'm fine, I'm _fine"_s.

_This is probably worse than I thought_, he thinks.

The locker room lights are dimmer than the gym, but Iwaizumi can see fine when he sets Oikawa on a bench and rolls down the white kneepad to see what's what. They'd gone over a lot on knee injuries in sports medicine, especially with jumping and the strain put on the quadriceps, so he can see if the symptoms if they're there.

Iwaizumi has one hand on the backside of Oikawa's calf and the other is hovering over the swollen joint of his knee.

"Oh, wow, I've never seen it swell that much before. At least it's not red or anything…"

Iwaizumi breathes very slowly through his nose and keeps his eyes trained on his hand. It's shaking.

(_Why am I shaking?_)

"Oikawa Tooru. Have you been to a doctor about this?"

"Yepp! It's nothing big, just some tendonitis. Doctor said it-"

"_Damnit._"

His fist hits the wooden bench with a crack and he's not sure if the sound comes from his knuckles or the bench.

"It's _nothing big? _Tooru. If you don't let this recover you're going to _seriously injure yourself_. Do you understand? Do you not _want _to keep playing, you absolute _moron_?"

The locker room echos before his voice fades away and they sit in silence. Iwaizumi's hand is still shaking where it's gripping Oikawa's leg.

"I understand, Hajime."

He looks towards Oikawa's face long enough to know he's serious-that dumb, genuine half-smile that Iwaizumi thinks is his real smile is there. His eyes aren't heavy lidded and cold like they are when he wears that god awful ear-to-ear grin. It's the most sincere look Iwaizumi's gotten from him in years.

"It's usually not like this, ya know. It's just because of all the practice lately. I'll take it easy until the swelling goes down, promise."

Iwaizumi can tell he's genuine, but...it wasn't exactly like Oikawa to comply so easily. He gives his friend a suspicious look.

"You better not be fucking with me, Tooru."

"Wouldn't _dream_ of it, Haj-okay, that's a lie, because I actually have-"

"O-_Oi!"_

Oikawa throws his head back and _laughs_, the sound echoing around the empty locker room and making Iwaizumi's chest constrict. His hand falls from Oikawa's calf to his ankle before leaving his skin altogether and standing up.

The smile he receives from his setter is blinding.

"You overreacted, Iwa-chan! I never knew you cared so much about my well being."

Iwaizumi sent him a frown but only responded with a light scuff (it was not a _caress, _jees, he was _not _amazed at how soft his idiot's hair was. _God.)_

Oikawa is out of his shoes and other kneepad before he speaks again.

"Sooo….does this stunning development in our relationship mean I can use your name more, Hajime?"

Iwaizumi splutters and turns away from Oikawa so fast that he almost hits his face off the lockers behind him.

"_No_, Trashy Oikawa!"

* * *

><p>Notes:<p>

I've had this headcanon for such a long time it was so fun to write about it. A few things:

1. I've never taken a sports medicine class, so idk if they actually talk about that kind of stuff

2. I have tendonitis in my wrists and ankles, so I know that feel bro. But I only did like two google searches for quadricep tendonitis, so don't take my info too seriously.

3. Big huge thanks and hugs and cookies to everyone reading! Follow my writing/art blog on tumblr (thursdayloud) for some fun times (or if you've got requests for fics...)


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